SHIPS PASSING OVER COCOA
by AscendAsLongAsYouDrawBreath
Summary: A rare view into the personal reflections of The Dark Knight sometime over the holiday season.
1. Chapter 1

After setting the giant, seemingly omniscient, computer on 'standby' for the night, the legendary Dark Knight of Gotham took a seat in his throne…the Bat Throne is what Dick had always called when he was little. Later Dick would use that same name as one of derision. Kids can be that way to parents. Bruce mused on this as he began to do the one thing most thought him absolutely incapable of – exhaling deeply, he (cowl-less, but otherwise dressed for battle should it come) took a large streaming mug of hot chocolate in his hands, leaned back a bit, and relaxed.

He could usually afford to do this one night a year. The SPECIFIC night wasn't set at all, it just depended on things. Now was the holiday season and some nights were just veritably crimeless; either being too savagely cold for either predator or prey –or- more surprisingly, he had noticed that even the hardest criminal seem to get a nostalgic desire for home and friends and do their best to make some kinds of meaningful connections with other human beings – at least for a short time. So, with these factors in play, Bruce could always isolate one night over the holidays where he could guard his city from 'standby mode' while enjoying some solitude and cocoa.

As the bright wisps of steam from his mug faded into the dark miasma of the surrounding cave, Bruce, always very controlled and controlling, allowed his own thoughts to rise freely, to mingle freely before his consciousness, and fade peacefully when they had had their say. His first thoughts were of himself. Bruce, a man known for rarely missing a meaningful clue, knew EXACTLY what people (even his 'friends') thought of him – that we was brooding, arrogant, and difficult…that it was possible he did not respect them. Nothing could be further from the truth. How could they – especially his 'friends' in the League – not clearly understand that he could never willingly walk into battle (let alone repeatedly) with those he did not respect…even trust? But it seems that his 'friends' in passing some kind of judgment on HIM revealed their own sad flaw – they frequently only saw things from THEIR OWN perspectives. They had NO IDEA what it was like to be HIM, and they didn't even really try. Couldn't THAT be a kind of supreme arrogance (the same charge they leveled at him)? It's not that he didn't want to be known or understood, he just wasn't going to make it easy for anyone. After all, he was the "world's greatest detective" and understood the sheer JOY of making profound discoveries after meticulous investigation and contemplation. If something (or someone) was truly worth understanding, time and study and the making of logical inferences based on clues and evidence was worth it – even required. His 'friends' simply didn't seem to want it bad enough…or they simply stopped when they THOUGHT they understood him as well as they wanted. Unfortunate that they apparently didn't cherish the joy of discovery as he did – they would truly know him much better (and certainly more as equals).

And THERE was the true 'elephant in the room' with regard to Bruce's apparent arrogance: yes, he WAS in fact the smartest man in ANY room he happened to be in (including the JLA council chambers). He took a careful sip of the near scalding cocoa. Heat? Yeah, he took a lot of heat for his incredible wealth of knowledge and seemingly limitless capacity for insight and understanding, but he wasn't this way because he won some kind of genetic lottery. He wasn't 'smarter' than everyone else 'naturally'. It took decades of focused discipline and sacrificial training to develop his mind and body to near physiological perfection. Even if he did have a photographic memory (some people accused him of this as if his vast intellect and abilities to perceive were a mere 'mutant' trait) – and he was pretty sure he didn't have one – one would have to be able to comprehend the depth and meaning of the 'photograph'. What good is having pages of photographed text if one doesn't have ability to understand it all? No, he was 'smarter' than everyone else because he had worked MUCH HARDER to BE 'smarter'. He respected hard work. He respected discipline. He respected people who understood what it took to be overcomers (as he had to overcome the murder of his parents)….what it took to achieve goals (like his personal all-too-lofty goal of protecting all the vulnerable that Gotham preyed upon). This was one of the big disconnects with his 'friends' in the League: most of them were GIVEN something that made them special – a power ring, godly powers and a golden lasso, accidental physical enhancements into metas, cybernetic implants, Kryptonian DNA under a yellow sun, etc. He wasn't GIVEN anything. What he cherished (family) was taken FROM him, and he had to personally and physically DEVELOP everything he was out of that. He certainly didn't see himself as particularly arrogant. He just had a low tolerance for self-indulgent wasted potential.


	2. Chapter 2 - Father and 'sons'

Bruce brought the warm mug near to his lips again, but this time just breathed in the sweet aroma - sweet because it was a scent that said 'home' and celebrated 'family'. His mother would always make hot chocolate for him on those long, cold Gotham winter nights. They would sit in the kitchen near the large picture windows, look out at the snow and ice, and tell stories over cocoa. His dad would often join them when he wasn't responding to some sort of medical emergency or public fund raising event (which he often joked were one-and-the-same thing). Bruce as a young boy loved the stories of chivalrous knights the best…their nobility…their code of honor….their bravery in the face of the mystical and terrifying. Yes, Bruce loved those stories and remembered them all even now, but his dad loved the story of Zorro the best! These stories wound up being kind of the unofficial Wayne family Code of Honor…a Code he tried in some way to pass down to his own 'sons'.

Mentally floating freely in the midst of the great cocoa-scented cloud, he thought of his own 'sons'….and, yes, he did consider each one as a uniquely beloved son…and, like his parents and the Code, he tried to pass down the things that he valued deeply down to Dick, Jason, and Tim. The big difference, he realized not for the first time, was that much of what HE valued came with the price of either the pain of loss, or determined sacrifice. He had a difficult time sharing his 'wisdom' and Code with his sons without referring to these touchstones. Yes, he had overcome his pain and grief long ago but it did ultimately frame how he saw his city…how he saw his world. It was a world worth saving, but it was not a particularly bright and shining one. Perhaps the world he shared with his sons was too lacking in Light sometimes, or too focused on discipline and sacrifice. Maybe if he had his own dad for more time ("MUCH more" he silently wished to himself), he would have learned how to become a better father himself…would have learned how to be more nurturing and encouraging. His own personal education had been at the feet of MASTERS of myriad disciplines. They didn't so much as TEACH him as they did TRAIN him…and this, regrettably, was the only way he knew. He tried his best to TEACH his sons – especially Dick, his 'first born' – but he seemed to always spend more time training them instead. There is a difference.

Just like I hope my father saw something of himself in me – even as young as I was when Gotham separated us forever – there was a part of me that I saw as an intrinsic part in of each of my 'sons', and I think it was that element…that immediate tangible marker…that drew me to each one of them.

Dick was my heart. There is no denying that. I empathized with the destruction of his reality that day at the circus, because his story so paralleled my own. My heart broke for him as if breaking all over again for myself – and I knew the anguish that was just in front of him, waiting to devour this poor circus kid. At least I had The Code. What did he have? Sawdust? Transience? Clowns? My heart gave me no choice but to try to change that…to let him know that someone REALLY KNEW how he felt at that exact moment and could offer him a lifeline to hold on to. Of course, that lifeline was attached to a batarang and THAT gave him something entirely different to hold onto: justice. At the very least I made sure that Dick understood the difference between 'justice' and 'revenge'. I gave him a gift that no one could give me: the power to exact justice! To actually DO something personally to find and convict his parent's murderer. I look back now and wonder, "What kind of father extends an offer like THAT?" But with The Code often comes A Crusade…and Dick loved being a crusader! Sometimes Dick thinks that I have been disappointed in him…in the way he turned out. Nothing could be further from the truth! He fully made my Crusade his own, became a true peer, and yet never let the darkness envelope him…a true light in a very dark city. I feel both pride and envy with him.

Tim was my mind. What Dick may have lacked in analytical skills and focus, Tim had (has…odd that I keep thinking in the past-tense. I guess it's because at this point they are out there making their own marks….as if time with me was a rite-of-passage.) in abundance. How could I not look on such a keen mind – one that was able to discover my own secrets through simple deduction - as a kindred spirit? Here was not a boy in pain that needed guidance. Here was a brilliant mind that needed to be cultivated, nurtured….perfected. In Tim I saw someone that had the potential to truly carry on the legacy of the title: World's Greatest Detective. I know what the unleashed mind is capable of when sharpened and disciplined, and I wanted Tim to know that too….to want to 'become'. Tim, however, understood The Code more than he accepted The Crusade. He had the moral strength to be the 'knight', but not the drive (some would say 'obsession') to abandon all for the sake of The Crusade. He still COULD become 'world's greatest detective', but he won't have to do it on my terms…in my world. He could channel that intellect into police work or military intelligence - things I myself was contemplating before the night of the Bat through the Window….before my personal epiphany. I know Dick is trying to live in that world now, but he will always come back to being the independent crusader. "He has too much of his father in him", to quote a great cinematic sage. I can see walking the path I was on before The Bat, and being entirely fulfilled. I'd love that for him.

And then there is Jason. Jason was most certainly my ego. From the moment I caught him furiously plying his 'skillz' on the Batmobile's hubcaps, I saw a chance to remake my personal mission. All these years prior I had been the hunter that captured the animals and let the system take their best shot at rehabilitating them. I helped keep Gotham safe, and the system theoretically provided much needed help and transformation for the 'misguided' that I sent them. Problem is I saw so few of these creeps and thugs and sociopaths repent of their ways and allow themselves to be transformed into decent citizens. The system has most assuredly failed! In Jason, I saw the chance to try my own hand at being 'the system'. When I recognized all those years ago that the police were hopelessly corrupt and inept, I stepped in and claimed Gotham as my own. I did the job that NEEDED to be done – and that was outside 'the criminal justice system'. It didn't take long to realize that the 'rehabilitation system' was a joke of ….well Joker-proportion! I could have busted Jason…sent him to juvie like any other punk, but I knew 'the system' would surely fail Jason as it seems to generally fail all who enter it. Maybe it was time for me to step in there too. I could make Jason better. I could give him a better future on a solid path with true direction. I was oddly excited by the thought of acting as a healer (in the vein of my own father) rather than as an avenger. Jason was my experiment as a rehabilitator. I loved Jason as much as my other 'sons', but my motives with him were different from the beginning. With Dick and Tim there has been tension because their own unique personalities were very different than my own. With Jason there was the intent to mold him into something very much like 'me'. Train him. Craft him into something different….something better. Ultimately, I succeeded in making him into something better…a MUCH improved, highly evolved version of the punk he originally was. I should've given him to Diana to train somehow. "Come back with your shield or ON it!" How can I not love such a philosophy!


	3. Chapter 2 - cont

And then there is Jason. Jason was most certainly my ego. From the moment I caught him furiously plying his 'skillz' on the Batmobile's hubcaps, I saw a chance to remake my personal mission. All these years prior I had been the hunter that captured the animals and let the system take their best shot at rehabilitating them. I helped keep Gotham safe, and the system theoretically provided much needed help and transformation for the 'misguided' that I sent them. Problem is I saw so few of these creeps and thugs and sociopaths repent of their ways and allow themselves to be transformed into decent citizens. The system has most assuredly failed! In Jason, I saw the chance to try my own hand at being 'the system'. When I recognized all those years ago that the police were hopelessly corrupt and inept, I stepped in and claimed Gotham as my own. I did the job that NEEDED to be done – and that was outside 'the criminal justice system'. It didn't take long to realize that the 'rehabilitation system' was a joke of ….well Joker-proportion! I could have busted Jason…sent him to juvie like any other punk, but I knew 'the system' would surely fail Jason as it seems to generally fail all who enter it. Maybe it was time for me to step in there too. I could make Jason better. I could give him a better future on a solid path with true direction. I was oddly excited by the thought of acting as a healer (in the vein of my own father) rather than as an avenger. Jason was my experiment as a rehabilitator. I loved Jason as much as my other 'sons', but my motives with him were different from the beginning. With Dick and Tim there has been tension because their own unique personalities were very different than my own. With Jason there was the intent to mold him into something very much like 'me'. Train him. Craft him into something different….something better. Ultimately, I succeeded in making him into something better…a MUCH improved, highly evolved version of the punk he originally was. I should've given him to Diana to train somehow. "Come back with your shield or ON it!" How can I not love such a philosophy!


End file.
